


Confessions Of A Liar (All Of Which Are True)

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-01
Updated: 2005-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Lily Evans can’t help but notice James Potter — who can? She, like every other girl in Hogwarts with a pair of eyes to her name, can only dream of being noticed back — he’s incredibly good-looking, smart, funny…the list goes on. However, when James does notice Lily, all she can do is insult him.Not one to give up, ...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  


**Confessions Of A Liar**

  


**(All Of Which Are True)**

****

**Summary-** Lily Evans can’t help but notice James Potter — who can? She, like every other girl in Hogwarts with a pair of eyes to her name, can only dream of being noticed back — he’s incredibly good-looking, smart, funny…the list goes on. However, when James _does_ notice Lily, all she can do is insult him. 

Not one to give up, James decides to try again — and yet again Lily shoots him down. Determined to prove everything she says wrong, James decides to pursue Lily - who doesn’t take to it kindly. This is the story of the attempts of James Potter to win over a girl struggling with commitment problems, bad temper, a dysfunctional family, a tendency to overdramatise, a litany of other, far worse but far less dangerous admirers, the constant threat of dying at the hands of an Evil Overlord and his minions and a habit of compulsive lying. 

What complicated lives the Hogwart’s students lead…

**Rating-** R, for the rather colourful language of the various inhabitants of Hogwarts and my overuse of brackets.

**Ships-** L/J, a few short-lived relationships involving various marauders, Lily, OC’s, OCC’s and random names that mean nothing in the long run. Sadly, there is no love for Snape in this fic, but he knows that he will always be in _my_ heart, even if it turns out that he is slightly evil (and completely fictional), so he’s happy.

**Author Notes-** For all of you expecting a fic with some kind of depth beyond teenage turmoil, keep looking dears. This is what you might call ‘light reading’ — not that there’s anything wrong with that. (Too much Seinfeld). I mean, I attempted to insert a little bit of depth, but as of yet there is none (that I can see). I’m not going to ignore the whole Lord-Voldemort-Battle issue, not at all. It just hasn’t come up yet…But it will. And therein you will find some more angsty depth. For what is a fic without a touch of angst? However, it definitely isn’t the central point of my fic. Not at all. I’m focussing on pointless teenage troubles right now *big grin*. Oh and once again, I would like to apologise for my apparent addiction to brackets. They seem to appear a lot in this fanfic. For this I am sorry. 

And let it begin…

♥

 

♥

  
** Prologue **   
**The Voice Of Horrible Truths**   
**(I Know It Well)**   


****

I’m sitting uncomfortably on the broom, only a tiny fleck of copper hair, pale skin and black robes in the grey, cloud-speckled night sky. I make my mouth into a small ‘O’ and take a deep breath, in and out, trying to calm myself. It’s pointless — my nerves remain with me, pushing my heart around in somersaults in my chest and jumping up and down in my stomach, making me feel queasy.

It’s just so _cold_. What am I doing up here anyway? The insecure part of me, that mind-residing voice that I know every teenage girl harbours, tells me that this is all a big joke and that I’m an idiot for even _considering_ …But that insecure part, I’m getting better at ignoring it. 

Still, it’s getting late. Surely by now…

Why did I even come? Even if this isn’t a joke... I ignore the familiar ‘voice of horrible truths’ that pipes up every so often in my mind and tighten my grip on the broomstick, shuddering. I repress the urge to look at my watch. I know that I got here early, but surely it’s 8 o’clock by now. I sigh very slightly. 

Right, 5 minutes or I leave. I’ve decided. There is no point in waiting for ages in the freezing cold for something, so…well, I still don’t even know why I’m here, so I don’t mind leaving. 

And I don’t particularly trust Edie’s broom — its common knowledge that the two of us don’t get along too well and I wouldn’t put it past her to lend it to me, freshly cursed. 

I’ve just realised. If I don’t look at the clock, how will I know when five minutes has passed? 

Satisfied with my excuse, I glance at my watch. 2 minutes to 8. How is it not 8 o’clock yet? How, when it feels like I’ve been waiting a lifetime? 

My heart slams anxiously against my rib-cage. 

And why am I so nervous? 

That annoying ‘voice of horrible truths’ pops back up again, but I shove it to a small corner of my mind where it won’t bother me so much. I hate that voice. If that voice was a person, I’d file for harassment and get a restraining order on it, so that it could stop pissing me off with its honesty.

Seriously, I don’t get why people are so big on telling the truth all of the time. I mean, if someone really annoys me, I don’t mind telling them and usually choose to do so in rather loud volumes, because my temper has reached its very low limit. But still, if you think about it, when your friends come up to you and ask you what you think of their new haircut, or the drawing that they did the night before, or if they’re pretty or not, what do you think they really want to hear? They may say that they want constructive criticism, but really, they’re just fishing for compliments and, as their friend, you are obliged to give them to them. Honesty is seriously overrated. I’d really prefer to be rewarded with a pleased, beaming smile because I told a tiny, white lie, than have to see my friends crushed expression because I told her what I _really_ thought of her new dress robes. 

I keep my eyes glued to my wrist watch, wondering desperately why, all of a sudden, time has decided to travel so slowly. Really, it usually flies by…

1 minute to 8…

I resist the need to groan in impatience — waiting was never really my ‘thing’. It is freezing cold up on Edie’s broom and I just want to get back inside, to the Gryffindor common room, where there’s a warm, crackling fire and rain isn’t threatening to pour down from the roof. 

The second hand ticks its way around the small, circular face of my watch, with a lifetime of a pause between each ‘tick’ that it makes. It’s as if the whole world has slowed down its spin on its axis, just because it knows that I’m out here, being harassed by the sharp November winds and the threat of rain hovering over my head in the dusky clouds.

8 o’clock. 

But I don’t suppose it’s been 5 minutes yet…

Should I leave?

Just as the dishonest, insecure, unreasonable and slightly larger part of my brain is getting ready to have one of it’s usual arguments with that ‘voice of horrible truths’ that is currently lurking in the very back of my mind, waiting to reappear, a voice interrupts my train of thought (or ‘trains’, if you count the fact that I’m slightly schizophrenic because I argue with myself on a regular basis).

“Been here long?”�

And suddenly it seems as if time has just gone all too fast and that I’m no where near ready for this. My pulse rate suddenly rockets and I’m slightly surprised that I’m still alive and conscious. Each breath that I take becomes loud and shallow. The owner of the voice is standing behind me (or sitting, I suppose, considering that we’re both hovering God knows how many feet in the air on broomsticks). My heart constricts — it’s as if some evil little goblin-like creature has just squeezed its way into my chest, wrapped a thick rope around the poor muscle and pulled the ends tightly. 

Oh my God. 

What do I say?

_Well whatever you do, don’t insult him._

There’s that voice again. 

But I should really listen to it this time…sure he’s followed me around for this long, but how much longer will he be able to take the constant insults and character-bashing that I keep dishing out to him?

I take one deep breath and quickly search my mind for something, anything, that I can say to him without being insulting, fully aware that it’s been several moments since he spoke to me.

“Lily?”�

So he noticed as well…

I think that silence seems to be a good way to solve my problem. This way, I won’t have a chance insult him, like I did all of those years ago, when everything kicked off…

 

♥

 

♥


	2. Chapter One

  
**Confessions Of A Liar**   
** (All Of Which Are True) **   


**  
  
**

**Author Notes-** Aww, we get a little preview of Emo!Lily in this chapter, hehe. I honestly don’t like the beginning, but I didn’t really know how to improve on it.   
Hmm, I know I said this update would only take a week, but…yeah. At least you didn’t have to wait a month or anything…  
Well, enjoy this chapter, anyway. The next one isn’t actually written, so expect a longer wait this time…urgh. No one should really give me responsibilities. I’m not great with them.   
Oh, slight trace of language in this chapter…but then you shouldn’t care given that this is a PG-13 fic…even though it says R (UR won’t let me change the rating for some reason…)

 

♥

 

♥

** **

  
** Chapter One **   
**The Object Of My Affection**   
**(Well, Not Just Mine…)**   


****

I stood outside the Charms classroom, arguing with Edie about something stupid, as per usual. Edith McAllister was one of my closest friends and, coincidentally, one of my worst enemies. Truthfully, all we really ever did was argue.

Today, our argument was about my newest ‘fling’, Milton Jones. I was never really into relationships — whenever things got serious between me and a boy I ran. Everything had to be done on my terms, as well. I’m sort of a cliché, in that respect, I suppose. Commitment-fearing teenager who has to be in charge of the relationship, else she’ll feel crowded, constantly dating around, and hating to be tied down…you get my drift.

“Milton is a great guy…”�

“Exactly, Lily! You don’t deserve him. And you know, he won’t know that you only see this as a fling — no boy seems to know that when they start dating you. Why they haven’t learnt by now, I don’t know…”� Edie never really approved of my dating habits. She was more of a relationship-type person.

Well it was certainly alright for her. She didn’t have any problems, because she was _perfect_. 

And, you know, that’s not an overstatement. Perfectionist to the core, Edie was the most high-maintenance, in-control person that you could meet. Her perfection annoyed me to no end — in fact, if it weren’t for the fact that she was failing Herbology dismally, I would be prone to think that she was a muggle robot in possession of a wand, rather than a human being. 

“Listen, a little fling isn’t going to hurt him. And come on Edie, he’s a 16 year old boy, like he wants a relationship any more than I do-”�

“Lily, your definition of a relationship is anything exceeding two weeks. I’m sure-”�

“Not everyone wants what you want, Edie.”�

“And not everyone wants what you want.”� She quickly retorted.

I scowled and opened my mouth to reply, but was shushed by Florence.

“Flitwick’s here.”� She said quietly.

Florence Atterbury was another one of my friends, although I got on far better with her than I did with Edie. This may have been because Florence had much more of the same ideas as me, relationship-wise. Had I ever been asked to describe Florence in one word, staying away from the monosyllabic, I would have used ‘promiscuous’. 

Or at least, as promiscuous as you can get at the age of 15 or 16. 

I looked up the corridor to see Flitwick, a tiny, goblin-like man, making his way towards the group of Gryffindor/Hufflepuff 5th years that were bundled outside his classroom door. Out of all of the 5th year houses, Gryffindor was the smallest, playing host to only 8 students. Hufflepuff had ten pupils, which made them one of the largest houses in the year. 

“Silence, please”� Flitwick said, as loud as he could (which wasn’t, in truth, all that loud). Still, all of us stopped talking and made way for him to let us in. 

I made my way in behind my friends, smiling. I enjoyed Charms — it was something that I was good at. I flung my bag down on a desk and Florence threw hers down to my right. Cat came and sat down to my left, successfully separating me from Edie — my two friends had discovered long ago that if they actually wanted to be able to concentrate in classes, this was the best way to go about ensuring that they could.

They say that opposites attract, and in the case of Cat and I, ‘they’ were certainly right. Catriona Rysher was _everything_ that I wasn’t, my total opposite. 

You remember how I said that I didn’t understand why people were so honest? Well Cat seemed to understand very well. In fact, what she _didn’t_ understand was dishonesty, nor did she understand the concept of subtlety, or light sarcasm. What she did get perfectly was honesty so blunt it was often brutal. She was outspoken and so confident that everything she said was worth listening to — and I loved that about her. I desperately envied her that confidence, that spark that she had. Of course, that wasn’t the only contrast between us.

Where I had bright, thick copper-coloured hair, long and wavy, her hair was perfectly straight, thin and black. She had darker skin where I was pale and covered in freckles. She had light blue eyes where I had vivid green ones. She was loud, without inhibitions where I was constantly plagued by that stupid, insecure part of me that loved to show itself as often as possible. She hated Quidditch, I enjoyed it (though couldn’t play it for the life of me). She wanted relationships, I wanted flings. She loved eye contact, I despised it. I could keep this list going for a while… 

With all of our differences, it would seem that we’d never find anything to talk about, but some how we did. In fact; I’m not even sure what we talked about when we were together - all I know is that whenever Cat was around there was never a dull moment. 

Unfortunately, when I was trying to listen to Flitwick explain that day’s work and Cat was trying to get me to play some game with her, I found her ever-so-slightly annoying. 

“Shut up, Cat.”� I hissed.

“Come on Lily, it’s a great game...”�

“No.”� 

“- you can pair up and get started.”� Flitwick ended. And I had just missed whatever we were supposed to be doing.

“Cat, how many times do I have to tell you?”� I said, exasperatedly. I was starting to sound like her mother, as could quite often happen when she annoyed me. 

Scary thought.

“Lily, I know what we’re doing.”� Florence said, rolling her eyes at us. 

“What?”� Cat said, grinning slightly. 

“Ask Edie.”� I said, sticking my tongue out at her.

Cat turned her head to look at Edie, who had spent the first part of the lesson doodling on a spare piece of parchment. At the mention of her name, however, she looked up.

“Yeah?”�

“What are we doing?”� Cat said promptly.

Edie shrugged. “Don’t you know?”�

Cat and Edie were best friends, practically inseparable, but really, if you put them together in any sort of situation forcing them to concentrate, they were completely useless. They either had no idea what they were supposed to be doing or arguing about who could do it better. 

I rolled my eyes and turned back to Florence.

“Let’s get going.”�

-

This was how most of my lessons in Hogwarts went. I spent my time arguing with Edie, snapping at Cat, relying on Florence and just generally joking around with my friends and I liked it that way. Every now and then, I’d spend a little time with the ‘boy of the moment’, but the majority of my time was spent with the three people closest to me in the world.

That, and lusting after James Potter. James Potter was quite possibly _the_ most wanted boy in the 5th year. He was incredibly smart, incredibly charming and incredibly good-looking. He was one of the best quidditch players in the school and almost every girl that I knew had a major thing for him. Who wouldn’t?

-

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not some hormone-crazed, boy-obsessed teenager. I have a little more dignity and I know that I could get along just fine without boys in the picture. However, I am a 16 year old girl attending a boarding school. I feel that I have to be honest. Seriously, I’m a smart, independent girl — boys don’t rule my life.

But James. I just couldn’t not mention him…you know what I mean. He’s the kind of boy that every girl with eyes wants and hardly any ever gets. He wasn’t real enough to touch to any of us, so we were forced to socialise with him only in our daydreams. 

-

As my punishment for not listening to Flitwick at the start of the lesson (because it was all _my_ fault…), I was forced to go and get whatever we needed for that lesson (a frog or a raven each). I got up off my wooden stool, glaring at Florence for making me move — she smiled sweetly back at me. 

I made my way up to Flitwick’s desk, internally debating whether to get a frog or a raven and not really paying much attention to where exactly I was going. Just so you know, walking without looking where you are going is a bad idea. 

I only realised this when I was face down on the floor, at the foot of Flitwick’s desk, having tripped over someone’s foot. 

“Ow.”� I said, my voice muffled by the fact that I was actually speaking to the hard, stone floor. 

“Sorry!”� Someone said immediately. 

I knew that voice. 

I heard a lot of scuffling and some quiet laughter and it was only then that I realised that I hadn’t moved. Everyone else must have noticed this as well, because seconds later I felt a warm hand cup my elbow and force me up. After pushing myself into a kneeling position, I used one hand to rub my nose gingerly — it was throbbing painfully. I looked up at the people who were crowding me — Professor Flitwick stood, looking at me worriedly, his face not even a foot higher than my own. I tilted my head higher and caught sight of the person who had tripped me up. Peter Pettigrew was known to be exceptionally clumsy. I didn’t mind him too much — I had been partnered with him in class before and he was likeable enough. It’s just that these things, if they weren’t happening to me, seemed to always happen to him. We were a terrible pair, when put together.

I shot him a glare and he recoiled instantly.

“I’m so sorry.”� He squeaked anxiously. 

“Are you hurt?”� A deeper voice said from behind me.

My heart instantly did one of those cliché-sumersaulty-things. I couldn’t believe it. James Potter was speaking to me. James Potter was concerned about me. 

James Potter was _touching my elbow_.

My brain went into overdrive — I had spent years lusting after this boy, but had never once spoken to him, despite the minute size of Gryffindor house. And suddenly, we were touching. Well, he had a grip on my elbow. Same thing though. 

I whipped my head around so fast that my hair flew into his face. His mouth had, of course, been open at the time. I felt my face grow hot. James Potter speaks to me and I give him a mouthful of my hair. Luckily, he simply brushed my hair out of his face (and mouth), seemingly unconcerned. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly and my heart flipped over again. My eyes stared into his hazel ones, wide and slightly disbelieving. I had no idea what to say. My heart was going at one hundred times its normal speed and my thoughts were all whizzing though my brain maniacally so that I could not possibly form a single coherent sentence and to top that all off, I was immensely embarrassed, having just tripped up in front of 18 people, one of whom was _James Potter_.

-

Now, I don’t like admitting that I had been reduced to a lump of brain-dead flesh with a throbbing nose, and all because of a _boy_ no less, but I’m trying to be honest (something which I still think is overrated). I had liked this boy for five years, but never thought that we’d actually say anything to one another. Of course, anytime I’d had a daydream about it, I’d always been very cool; I’d had exactly the right thing to say. I had not stared gormlessly at him whilst spraying my long, thick hair into his mouth.

-

“Lily, is it?”�

And he knew my name.

Now, I know that to even think something like that is completely pathetic, but that didn’t stop my brain — my brain could be very pathetic when it wanted to be. Especially when it was buzzing wildly, thoughts being processed at the speed of light, as it was at that point.

He cleared his throat again — I feel I must point out that it was a very cute noise. 

“Peter’s sorry, aren’t you Pete?”� He broke eye contact with me and looked up at Peter, who nodded furiously. Now I know I said earlier that I didn’t like eye contact, but when it was eye contact with James Potter, I truthfully had no issues with it. James could look at me for as long as he wanted…

His eyes found their way back to mine and my heart performed another little somersault. “Are you Ok?”�

I panicked. 

I was never the cool-headed one — that was Edie. I did not fair well in bad (or too-good-to-be-true) situations. 

Therefore, before the logical part of my brain could even begin to awaken and start to generate some sense, I did the only thing that I could think of doing.

I shot James a deadly glare and snatched my elbow away from his hand (we had been touching that entire time).

“Get away from me.”� I spat maliciously.

Why?

I have no fucking clue. 

James looked at me, his eyes slightly wider, probably unsure what to make of me. I must have looked so _deranged_. 

“Er-”� he started to say.

“Look, Potter. I can take care of myself, _thank you_ very much.”� I said, quite coldly, still glaring. “So could you move?”�

James backed away obligingly, still staring at me quizzically. 

Quickly, I got three frogs and a raven and hurried back to my seat, where I saw Florence, Cat and Edie all biting back laughter. I glared at them, hoping that the class would end soon. I’d had enough of Charms for one day. And I hadn’t even done any magic. 

I sunk into my seat, glad that my desk was as far away as possible from James Potter’s, and dropped my head into my palms, my elbows firmly on the hard, wooden table.

Fuck.

_What had I done?_

I was such an idiot.

My so-called friends were not the most helpful either, sniggering as I prayed to some deity — anyone that was listening - that a large hole would open underneath me and rid me of this world for all eternity. 

“Lily?”� Florence said quietly. I could practically hear the grin in her voice.

I groaned.

“If you’re not offering to shoot me then I really don’t care Florence.”� I said, still suffering from that horrible teenage trauma that only boys can send you into. 

“Tempting.”� I heard Edie mutter, but chose to ignore it. 

“What happened?”� Cat asked, but my head remained down, where I couldn’t see anything. Maybe if I couldn’t see anything, then it would all disappear.

“James is staring at you.”� Edie said quietly.

Nope. Still there. How annoying. 

“Why me?”� I said, barely resisting the temptation to bang my head on the table in anguish.

“I think I’ll go ask him why.”� Edie said absentmindedly and, due to the very slow pace that my brain was suddenly working at, she slipped away before I could tell her not to. 

-

I guess I didn’t mention the story behind Edie and James. The two had grown up together, being next door neighbours — they knew each other too well, they were like a brother and sister. This, of course, meant constant arguments between the two of them, so they generally stayed away from each other. They could, however, sometimes be seen conversing, but for the most part, all of their interactions were some form of violence or arguing. 

-

“Oh God.”� I said, turning away from where the two of them were standing to look at Florence.

“So what happened?”� She said immediately, grinning slightly maniacally. Why my friends took so much pleasure out of my trauma I had no idea. 

“I tripped.”� I said, not wishing to recount it at all.

“I think we saw that Lily.”� Cat said from behind me. “What happened with _James_?”�

I sighed, knowing that it would come out some time.

“Later.”� Not yet, though. 

Cat made a strange noise of annoyance — she hated not knowing things. She was like a little gossip monger. 

I heard Edie return and immediately braced myself for the worst. 

“So, Lily.”� She said slowly. She came round to face me, obviously holding back more laughter. 

“What did he say?”� I asked, desperately trying not to sound eager.

Edie snorted loudly. 

“He said that you were quite rude.”�

I groaned again, closing my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to be-”�

“I guessed as much. He also said that you had nice eyes.”�

My heart skipped a beat.

“He did, did he?”� I said, my voice sounding horribly high-pitched, as I opened my eyes slowly to look up at Edie. 

“Yeah. He wants an apology, though.”�

“Well, I-”�

“Don’t bother; he’s arrogant enough as it is.”� She said, smiling at me and walking back to her seat. Once again, I found myself envious of Edie. She could talk to James — she had known him for ages. Perfect Edie, with all the right friends. 

“I-”�

“Not that he won’t try to get one. Be careful, because he will come up to you.”�

My heart did another jump thing. Maybe this time I wouldn’t panic and I’d actually be nice to him — we could have a conversation or something.

“Right.”� I said, turning to my frog and picking my wand up from the table.

“If you try to insult him again, make sure you throw the word ‘arrogant’ in there somewhere. It usually goes down well…”� Edie continued. Why was she giving me _tips_ on how to insult James? Did she really think I was going to be as rude as I was before?

“Don’t insult him, Lily. You’ll never get anywhere with him that way.”� Cat said bluntly, poking her raven in an attempt to silence it (and failing miserably). 

“Why would anyone want to ‘go anywhere’ with him?”� Edie muttered, more to herself.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind…”� Florence said, just as Cat and I both muttered our general approval of the idea of James taking us anywhere. 

“Oh honestly.”� Edie said, rolling her eyes and turning back to her frog.

 

♥

 

♥

 

**Author Notes-** So, hope you enjoyed it and also hope very much that you’ll stick around for the next chapter ;p

 

♥

 

♥


End file.
